


Efficiency, Part 2

by ViktoryKill



Series: The Mission X Chronicles [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Childhood Memories, Fear, Hallucinations, Keith is Fatalistic, M/M, Mind Games, Other, Scared Lance (Voltron), Self-Reflection, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViktoryKill/pseuds/ViktoryKill
Summary: Lance and Keith go through "The Rise of the Space Madness," and Lance, despite still being in denial, comes a step closer to realizing he's in love with Keith.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: The Mission X Chronicles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894618
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Efficiency, Part 2

The first few guys out were lightweights - the lowest in the sector at least in terms of concentration and stability.

Everyone watched them anyway, from a distance; some with tense and bated breath, others just laughing, waiting for them to crack in five minutes.

Which they did.

But next were the more competent candidates, and that's where the real fun began. Fifteen lads went through the simulation; put on headphones and stared at the screen, partially constructed mechanically, and partially constructed from their own brain waves. 

Twelve failed in their attempts.

Eight of the twelve looked traumatized, sweating and shaking.

Only three got through it, and even then, they looked worse for wear, even as they sported proud and superior smiles.

Lance bopped up and down eagerly from where he sat, watching the spectacle and looking at the large black screen near the ceiling, waiting for his number to flash.

He'd always had a lively imagination. The kind that jumped out and made him see monsters in the dark when he was a kid. But he was never the type to cry out and get scared and shout for mom. He faced the wild fruits of his mind head-on, because they were exciting. Livened up his world, and made life twice as worth living.

What was there to be afraid of? If it was all in his head, he could turn it on, and off. Lower the levels so it wouldn't be too intimidating. Or lift them if it got too boring. In other words, he was firmly in control.

It was with this attitude, this firm inner-belief, that Lance planned to tear through the simulation. Because at the end of the day, if he refused to cave in fear to the machinations his own mind created, what did he have to be worried about?

He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, trying not to look too jumpy.

Keith somehow caught his eye and smirked. Smugly, with a touch of self-satisfaction. As if he knew something Lance didn't. Lance could have let it irritate him, but he forced a snide smirk back instead.

He looked up anxiously at the screen. 

No. 13.

That was his number. It was his turn.

Eyes turned expectantly towards him, with a curiosity mixed with trepidation and excitement, the kind of feeling you get when stepping into a dark theater.

Lance himself could feel his tension rising. Confident as he was, or had been, dread was still wrapping its cold fingers around his neck. "Quit it," he whispered to himself in no uncertain terms. "If you're this fucked up before they even put the equipment on you, there's no way you're getting anywhere." 

He took two or three slow breaths, the way he'd been told in class back in middle school; and, with slightly less tense nerves, went to the designated space.

When he first had the green squares - which looked comically like big boxy celebrity glasses - placed in front of his eyes, and the headphones slipped over his head, he didn't notice anything strange. It was just like he'd gotten into the cockpit and was ready to start out on another routine mission.

So far, so good. But it always started out like this. You had to stay on your toes regardless, because space was unpredictable. 

As Lance pushed forward through the stars, his mind conjured music. Dreamy, soft-toned music, echoing sweetly into the infinite distance. "Nice one!" he beamed at himself. It relaxed him, and now he felt like he was just coasting on auto-pilot, the way those experienced in space travel were said to do.

Then he saw it.

From the corner of his eye.

One of his instruments, the speedometer, was flickering. Lance immediately took note. But then he shrugged. What difference did it make? It's not like he was actually on a mission. He didn't really need it. So he just kept enjoying the stars and the music. 

Nine familiar planets danced past at a pleasant speed, as if he were driving in a fast car, and Lance grinned. A "Milky Way Highway" sign might as well have been coming in view. The sun dashed by, its gleaming yellow energy rolling in waves towards him only to be relegated to a light year's distance within seconds.

Lance raised an eyebrow as he thought about it. What the hell was he doing, flying so fast? Even in a simulation, he should do his best to conduct his missions correctly, right? He looked back down to the speedometer and... oh shit. It was gone. Blacked out.

Lance cleared his throat loudly, trying to take his mind off it. He was sitting on the goddamn floor of a training camp, for space's sake. It didn't matter if his speedometer had blown. It didn't matter if he was speeding away several light years at a time.

Because none of it was even happening.

He tried to shift his attention to the sweet, mellowing melodies that had been playing, but now they just sounded sinister to his ears.

Deceptive.

Trying to lull him into relaxation so he'd crash and die. 

Lance raised both eyebrows this time - no, they shot up almost off his face. It's like he'd jumped from 40 to 162 in a matter of seconds here.

Dying? Come on, Lance, there's no such thing, at least not here.

When you're really out in space, sure. There's always a chance of death.

But not here. 

_You're on the floor, buddy. On the floor._

But the more he thought of this, the more he thought of horror movies where the protagonist comforted himself into security, only to get claimed by the very menaces that he'd refused to acknowledge.

"Shit," Lance muttered. "It's not the same thing, man! You are on the floor! I swear it!"

But his mind was no longer trusting. Right in front of him, he could see the world racing past, everything going into blurs.

So fast, so fast. If he didn't somehow blow out his engine, if he _did_ manage to come back to Earth, hundreds of years would have passed.

He'd have missed out on his life. The people he'd known. His own family. His own future. His place in the world. And with each second, he was getting further and further away, just letting it happen.

Tears snaked at Lance's eyes before he was even aware of it. "Fuck you!" he shouted, enraged. "It's not real, ya big dope! Get some sense!"

He tried to put his foot down on the de-accelerator, to slow down his car - or his ship - or whatever the fuck his mind said he was flying in, but it only jumped ahead with a large surge, dizzying him with the suddenness and intensity.

"Holy shit," he grunted, pissed.

He was this close to just saying fuck it, and let his future, his world, his time vanish into the ether. I mean, at the end of the day, it didn't look like he had much choice in the matter. 

But then, very unexpectedly, Keith popped into his vision. Long black mullet, straight from the 1980s and all. Floating there in front of the ship, looking in with that self-satisfied smirk, pressing his hands against the glass.

Lance had never seen anyone, alien or human or whatever, look so relaxed or in their element, drifting in the middle of the vacuum that was space. His jaw just kind of fell open as he stared at him, and he didn't snap out of it until he realized, to his disgust, that he was drooling.

"Keith, what the fuck are you doing here?" Lance shouted, wiping the spit off his mouth with his sleeve. "You're gonna kill yourself!"

Keith just broadened his smile, beauty and ice diffusing itself across his ghostly face. It was such a chilling, alluring expression that Lance shivered involuntarily.

And then the panic set in for real.

He would be leaving Keith behind if he kept flying.

_Keith._

The otherworldly being that was in front of him now, radiating the delectations of his spirit, who surely had even more gifts hidden beneath his cold wall of indifference.

"Let me out!" Lance screamed frantically. "I have to get off!"

Then he remembered. There was something on his face, in front of his eyes, making these terrible things happen. He just had to get rid of it.

He tore off the headphones, threw away the glasses.

Reality slowly swarmed into his consciousness, more slowly than he would've liked. It was as if he'd just woken from a ten-year coma, or that he'd been knocked out and was only just recovering. But when the bright lights finally did glare full intensity into his face, and he could see the commanding officer tell him his turn was over, relief swam over him like a tidal wave.

Sure, he'd failed the test. But it's not like this would determine their future or anything. It was more like you'd get extra points if you could get through it.

And even if it had been a future-deciding test, Lance honestly didn't care. Walking through the corridor, and seeing Keith sitting there, his eyes fixated on the screen, his shoulders tense with anticipation, was the best reward in the world.

Nothing could change his mind about that.

Keith laughed shortly as Lance sat down. "Nice job there," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and contempt.

Lance grinned. "Yeah, I'm the shit." he said, trying not to even remember it was the thought of leaving Keith that had ultimately caused him to fail. "Let's see how _you_ do."

Keith meant to say something biting, but he choked on his own spit and started coughing.

"See?" Lance poked his tongue out at him. "You're nervous as a playgirl bunny on her first job."

  
" _What_?" Keith nearly growled with rage, but before he could take a shot at Lance, the instructor was back, informing Keith that his number was flashing.

Keith shot a brief look at the screen, shot another glare at Lance, then walked briskly to the designated area. Immediately he put the equipment on, not even waiting for the officer, and watched boredly as the simulation kicked in.

Stars, stars, and more stars. Blackness. A couple of comets. Pretty cool, Keith thought, stroking the side of his chin absently. Still boring as hell, of course, but pretty cool.

He could drift endlessly like this for a good long time. 

And for a while, he did. No familiar planets or star clusters passed him, so he concluded that he'd wandered into a universe of his own making. Which was even cooler.

But just as he was getting relaxed, as if he were down in his room studying for a test, he heard it.

A glitch.

Vague radio static, a series of faint Morse code that reminded him of an S.O.S call.

Other clicks and hisses, and softer noises that he couldn't make out. Voices maybe? Singing? Just disturbances, mainly auditory. But he'd had fair enough warning that this was going to happen, so he didn't freak out. 

It's not like it really bothered him anyway. The sounds were soothing, and brought back old memories to him. When he was a kid, nursing an unhealthy fascination with ancient technology from all planets. At least, some called it unhealthy, but Keith was perfectly happy to just sit there and stare at the screen, taking in the old pictures and manuals, wondering what it would've been like to live 100 to 200 years ago.

Good times.

Keith smiled fondly with the memory, letting himself get a bit sentimental for once. He sometimes wished he could go back to those times... but not often. Still, as he faded back in time, the world around him shifted, at first vaguely, growing soft around the edges and tinted with duotone, old-fashioned lenses.

But then it melted, dissolved into something entirely different.

He was in an old city, where dinosaurs roamed and all kinds of mythical creatures with many heads and untold powers lived. The kind of city he dreamed of landing in when he was too young to know better, and still wanted to be a conquering hero with a village to save.

Keith grinned. He knew he shouldn't be here; knew that, technically speaking, he _wasn't_ here. That it was all an illusion, a glitch. But he was enjoying it too much to want it to vanish. To panic, or anything. 

He just chilled, watching a dragon rear his eight heads in full view of Keith's craft, spewing fire onto the windshield. Watching the elves that danced in the town square. Watching the waterfall at the edge of the village, overflowing with ogres and beasts that looked too wart-and-blemished unsightly to not be pleasing to Keith.

The glitches intensified, crackling in his ears, sliding across like VHS static and sometimes exploding like gunfire. It was annoying but not frightening, and Keith just grimaced, trying to will himself to shift the sounds to something he actually liked.

He couldn't.

The unpleasantness only increased, marring the enjoyment he was getting from this situation; and apparently his attempted interference just made things worse. Visually, there were glitches, too now, as the world in front of him shook and grew unsteady.

Instead of fantastical dragons and mythical beasts, there were suddenly actual enemies Keith had fought in both his simulations, his training missions, and the few real battles he had fought on Galra. They lunged at his craft, too close to the windshield, too close to him. One had even slipped inside, and was breathing cold ice down Keith's neck from behind.

He should be feeling threatened. These beings were nothing to sneeze at, after all; some of them had nearly killed him.

But death wasn't a frightening concept to Keith.

 _We are born, we live for a little while, we die._ It was the mantra he lived by.

He didn't count on existing longer than the next creature, nor did he believe he'd die earlier.

The fact was, no one knew what would happen. The future is never guaranteed.

And at the end of the day, he just didn't give a damn. He was heading exactly where he wanted to in his life - to be a battle pilot, with the highest level of strength and skill he was capable of. Even if he lost his life at this exact moment, he would still be satisfied, knowing he'd lived it the way he'd wanted to.

The relaxed, unconcerned air wafted off him in waves, and the glitches, with no ammunition to fuel them, were forced to subside, giving way to the admittedly less interesting view of flying through the stars. Keith grinned. He was going home.

He'd won.

The commanding officer took off his equipment, and reality flowed back into Keith's consciousness almost too swiftly. The bright lights staggered him for a moment, and he held his head as a bunch of spots clouded his vision. 

"Are you okay, Twenty-Two?" the commanding officer asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Keith. It happened sometimes; all he had to do was close his eyes for a few seconds and he'd go back to normal. "I really killed it, didn't I?"

"I wasn't expecting anything less," grinned the officer, sounding as stern as he could despite his obvious approval.

Keith strode into the hall where the rest of the students were waiting, and though he tried to keep his smile to himself, confidence rolled off him, and it was clear by one glance that he'd passed with flying colors.

Those who had also succeeded shared similar smiles, while those who failed nodded their heads with respect; and nearly everyone, regardless of how they'd done, gave whistles of approval and applause. After all, not only was the test now complete, but Keith had been the only one to emerge looking calm and collected, as if nothing had even happened. 

Quite the feat.

Keith waved off the attention with a brief shake of his head and strolled leisurely to where he'd been sitting before, crossing his legs in that delicate, slightly girlish way he had.

As pleased as he was with how things had gone, he was a little disappointed, too. The whole experience had been... unfulfilling. He'd wanted to feel a little fear, a little danger. Or something. Anything that lived up to the stories he'd heard. 

But in the end, he assumed he was probably too advanced in his training to get a kick out of... just about anything. He was prepared for nearly every scenario, and at this point, it was pretty much instinctual. To the point where it would take him an effort to _not_ do well. 

Keith shook his head.

No.

It wasn't that easy yet. He still had a long fucking way to go and there was no way he would lull himself into thinking otherwise.

But he _was_ damn good. Keith lingered on the thought, a smile trickling involuntarily across his face. He'd never admit it, but sometimes he did like sucking his own dick.

**Author's Note:**

> Next follows the guys in their last week of training, where there are a few surprises. Then it's Graduation Day, where everyone's families show up for a proud and happy reunion. Keith thinks he'll be fine there, but he's not.


End file.
